


You Don't Need Provenance Documents to Acquire Me

by androgenius



Category: Nancy Drew (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 03:02:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1329394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/androgenius/pseuds/androgenius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time they run into each other outside of work-related obligations is by pure chance, Joanna on her fifth Dancing Manhattan and starting to feel just comfortable enough to not mind the prospect of living in her own skin again, heading home, going to bed, and doing it all again in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Don't Need Provenance Documents to Acquire Me

The first time they run into each other outside of work-related obligations is by pure chance, Joanna on her fifth _Dancing Manhattan_ and starting to feel just comfortable enough to not mind the prospect of living in her own skin again, heading home, going to bed, and doing it all again in the morning. _Oh_ , how she hates Taylor Sinclair and his creepy little mustache that she could have sworn she saw on one of those neighborhood watch posters before.

At the time, Alejandro del Rio is the last person she wants to see, but in he trots, anyway, all decked out in black slacks and a red button-down like he’s out to match his complexion and audition for some sort of dance routine at the same time.

It’s infuriating, but he looks good, as always.

Heaving a great sigh, she tries to let her hair fall in her face, doing her best to shield it with her arm and the general combined weight of gravity and defeat, but he beats her, ambling up to the bar with that trademark smile that she knows isn’t genuine whenever he’s talking to her (or anyone else for that matter).

"Well, if it isn’t the devil herself, Joanna Riggs. I would say I’m surprised to see you here, but, then again, I suppose the Hamilton would suit your preferred price range quite nicely. Now, is this more or less out of your budget than the Pacal Carving is for Beech Hill?"

"Alejandro del Rio… if you’re not surprised with my presence here, does that mean I get to be surprised with yours? Last I checked, spending that kind of money is out of the question for you… shouldn’t you be helping your relatives mow a lawn? Maybe paint a house?"

"More acidic than usual… I wasn’t aware I deserved quite that sharpness of tongue."

"Oh, please, Alejandro, don’t kid yourself. This is on my way home as much as I reckon it’s on yours. I assume that’s why you’re here, so there’s no need for us to… linger." Distastefully waving her hand to try to get him to go away does nothing, Alejandro leaning against the bar beside her as he nods to her drink.

"How many of those have you had?"

"Enough. I’m taking public transportation, for god’s sakes! What are you, my father?"

"No," he chuckles, raising his hand to get the bartender’s attention, "Just trying to see how many drinks I will have to buy you before you might give up those provenance documents in a drunken slip-up."

There’s a split second where Joanna actually looks like she might murder him— until Alejandro starts to honestly laugh, turning back to the bartender amidst Joanna’s disbelieving laughter.

"One more for the lady, and a Few Bourbon Whiskey on the rocks for me, please." Turning to Joanna as he actually moves to take a seat, he pulls out his credit card with a nod to the bartender to just start a tab. "You can relax, I have no intentions of manipulating any woman out of her provenance documents or anything else while she is under the influence. Some of us are better than thieves, Ms. Riggs."

Groaning, she lets her head fall back, her eyes rolling so far back into it that she wonders if they’ll ever come back. “Alejandro, with all due respect, this is _not_ what I had in mind when I wanted to unwind after work. I already have to deal with you on a constant basis, believe me, I’m used to it by now— can’t we just mutually agree that happy hour is a sacred time where we shouldn’t even have to _think_ about each other, let alone anything else?”

"I have always wanted to sit down over a glass of wine with you, Joanna. So now I have the pleasure of doing it over something a little stronger. Rest assured, this is not about business."

"You mean to tell me that you didn’t come here to wait for some kind of date?"

"I came here with the exact same intentions as you."

"God help me," she mutters, throwing back the rest of her drink to accept the new one. "You’re still not getting those provenance documents," she warns him wryly as he laughs.

"Don’t worry. It’s not even on my mind."

  


&

  


Alejandro del Rio, as it turns out, is actually pretty interesting when he’s not blabbing on and on about how she’s pretty much _Christopher Columbus_ incarnate, murdering off his people with every single artifact she _appropriates_ for museum use.

And if she stops thinking about what an asshole he can be for five minutes, she might actually be able to appreciate his company.

"What is it that you’re drinking, anyway? Might as well know what I’m paying for, seeing as my money comes from helping my relatives roof homes…"

She can’t help it; she’s just drunk enough to laugh, shaking her head as she throws him a coy _look_. “All right, I admit, that was a little mean…”

"I meant it, about the drink!"

"Oh, right," she nods, picking it up to eye its color, a sort of deep peach-orange. "It’s got… bourbon, vermouth, bitters… and a bourbon-soaked cherry, of course." Reaching in, she plucks up the cherry from its stem, drawing it between her lips to suck on for a moment before tugging it off the stem, inadvertently catching Alejandro’s gaze on her lips for just a moment.

"It doesn’t sound very feminine," he finally says, his voice not even wavering slightly. Asshole.

"That’s because it’s not," she nods, sliding the cocktail glass over to him.

Taking a sip, he eyes her curiously, the pregnant pause between them hanging heavy for a long moment.

"You’re a very curious woman, Joanna Riggs." A beat. "For a conquistador, I mean."

Snorting, she takes her drink back, rolling her eyes at him before taking a long sip. “I should have known you’d turn that into a backhanded compliment. Thank you. I’ll take it as the latter.”

"I thought you might." It’s the first grin she gets from him where she doesn’t doubt whether or not its actually genuine, and she finds herself smiling back despite herself. "Might I now inquire why you came here to drink yourself into a stupor?"

"Ohh…" Chuckling, she lets her head tip back again, just shaking her head. "A long-term relationship of mine that ended about a year and a half ago got engaged today. Meanwhile, I am at the height of my career, and couldn’t possibly be thinking about anything less ambitious, of course, but…"

"But you worry about the ethics of your choices regarding the acquisition of the pieces you’re appropriating for the sake of you getting to the height of your career?"

She resists the urge to punch him in the arm, an old trick she picked up somewhere in grade school and seemed unable to actually let go. “Ha ha. Very _funny_ , Alejandro.”

"In all seriousness, perhaps it is time to set aside work for the acquisition of… a boyfriend in between the acquisition of priceless Mexican artifacts that belong to Mexico?"

"I could hit you, you know that?"

  


&

  


That night, he ends up paying for two of her nine total drinks and all of his own, if only because Joanna _insists_ that she is a modern feminist and _can take care of herself_ , all the while reminding him that none of this ought to count as a down-payment for those provenance documents, and he laughs and says he doesn’t care.

By the time he’s got her pressed up against the wall in the hallway of her apartment, he’s starting to believe it.

He kissed her first— to shut her up, he rationalizes— after insisting on seeing her home— just to her metro stop quickly turned into just to the front door of her building, and then finally up to her apartment— reassuring Joanna that the metro is open until 3am and that he has plenty of time to actually get home himself.

But there’s a hesitation after they get off the elevator that both of them are intimately familiar with, but neither feels particularly willing to name— not even after he pushes her up against the wall and speaks for both of them with lips and tongue what words can’t accomplish on their own.

There’s always been this electricity between them, however unspoken, usually attributed simply to their mutual hatred of each other, something Alejandro is only reminded of when he catches sight of Joanna’s _private_ collection on her bookshelf, a growl leaving him as he heads for the nearest door in attempt to forget why he hates the woman he’s ravenously making out with right now.

"Mm— wait," she mutters against his mouth just as he stumbles into the coat closet, Joanna waving him in the direction of the right door.

Not that they actually make it _to_ the bed, not when he catches sight of another artifact on her nightstand. Alejandro instead just pushes her up against the wall as soon as she manages to rid herself of her pants, panties, and socks, all too many layers in the way.

"Please tell me you’ve got provenance documents for all of these stolen artifacts," he grunts against her skin, Joanna almost laughing from the absurdity of it as he hoists her up, her legs wrapping around his waist.

"Don’t be ridiculous, most of those are— o-oh god— _replicas_ — I just have good taste--”

His hand pushes her sweater and bra up over her breast to lean down and capture a stiff nipple between his lips, a low moan leaving Joanna as her head falls back with a gasp at the feeling.

"In priceless Mexican acquisitions? _I'll say_."

If she’s entirely honest with herself, no matter how many deep, dark, dirty thoughts Joanna might have had about desecrating Alejandro del Rio— which she’d never, ever admit to, not even upon pain of death— the real thing is a good dozen times better.

"I have to say, Mr. Del Rio— I think you might be my f-favorite acquisition from Mexico so far—"

"Good. Because you don’t need provenance documents to acquire me."

Pressing two fingers inside of her is pretty sufficient to get her to shut up, Joanna letting out a loud whimper as her own grasp on the dresser beside her starts to slip, Alejandro’s grip on her ass tightening to keep her elevated— at least until he slows his fingers and sets her back down on the ground, Joanna about to protest until she sees him sink to his knees before her.

_Oh. God._

Lifting one of her legs over his shoulder, Joanna’s hands tangle in his hair for purchase as a sharp whimper escapes her, the sort of noises she’s just not used to hearing from herself, and she braves a glance down to see him between her legs.

It would seem that stolen Mexican artifacts isn’t the only thing Alejandro is enthusiastic about— and the more she thinks about it, the less she can fathom living in a world where this isn’t a regular thing.

It’s the last thought that strikes her before she comes with a cry at the feeling of his fingers curling up against her g-spot as his tongue keeps up a frantic pace, only slowing gradually as the realization sets in.

There is no way this is going to be a one-time thing. No way, no how.

And really, he brought this on himself when he told her to get a boyfriend. Not that Alejandro del Rio could ever possibly be her boyfriend, not given their respective office politics. But this— this is different, something he appears all too eager to prove as he picks her back up almost effortlessly to toss her onto the bed.

He’s even responsible enough to just take a condom out of his wallet _without prompting_ , and Joanna groans as she stares up at her ceiling, silently promising never to make fun of his responsibility, dedication, prowess, or dick size behind his back ever again for a quick jab.

From now on, she’ll be Professional Patty, through and through— she just can’t let anyone notice that anything has changed.

_Dammit_.

"Joanna? Still with me?"

"Shit— yeah. Just kiss me again, I don’t really want to think about anything but you fucking me right now."

_God_ , she hates that chuckle. “Much obliged.”

And he does seem to follow orders _very_ well, Joanna gasping at the feeling as he starts pushing inside of her, her legs wrapping around his waist once more.

Bless his heart, he _waits_ for her okay to move— “What are you waiting for, you idiot? Just because I haven’t been in a long-term relationship in a while, doesn’t mean I haven’t had _sex_! What do I look like to you, a _nun_?!”— but when he does—

It’s worth waiting for, that’s for sure, the way he hitches her leg up higher on his hip to drive into her a good bit deeper, stretching her body in ways she’s not sure she’s ever been stretched. (Then again, she’s always hated that yoga crap, so it might not be saying all that much.)

They switch positions enough times that Joanna is fairly convinced of his longevity in the sack, and after he comes, he doesn’t even make the inevitable cleanup and bathroom procedure awkward. It’s awful, in the best possible way. The Etta James, _Sunday Kind Of Love_ sort of way, passion in every single pore, but more importantly than even passion, the fact that it’s _comfortable_. That’s perhaps the most infuriating part.

She still has a minor freakout in the bathroom by herself as she tries to get herself to pee, but that’s her problem, not his, and she finally comes back out after convincing herself that this has got to have been the greatest mistake of her entire career— and will be, if anyone finds out— but then she walks back into the bedroom to the sight of Alejandro, her blanket just up to his hips, the lamp from her nightstand making his abs look awfully well-defined.

She’s distracted for about two seconds before he pulls her out of her reverie, nodding to the spot beside him as she climbs back into bed.

"I believe I recall a remark on your part about…"

"Speak and die, Del Rio."

"… how I am your favorite Mexican acquisition just yet."

Joanna throws him a death glare.

"I hope you realize that no one can know about this. That anyone finding out about this would be disastrous for both of us given our jobs, and—"

"— that the damage would be irreparable?"

"That wasn’t what I was going to say, but yes, that also happens to be true."

"I know. I’m familiar with the concept. We’ll just have to keep our tracks covered and be careful about how and when we meet."

  


&

  


It doesn’t turn out to be quite so simple, what with Joanna bent over her desk less than a week later, the door precariously locked as she tries to keep quiet with Alejandro’s body bent over hers, his slacks pooled around his ankles.

He hates her office. Hates the entire museum, really. But there wasn’t really a good alternative this time around, a soft moan leaving her as he keeps pounding into her from behind with a grunt.

"We’re not doing this again—" he growls, grabbing a small statuette and pulling one of her drawers open to stow it inside. "Next time you tell your sister not to come visit at such an inconvenient time—"

"It wasn’t inconvenient," she hisses over her shoulder right before he hits her g-spot hard enough to make her moan out loud. (Henrik’s in his sixties, right? He’s got to be going at least slightly deaf by now… or at least she hopes…) "You just didn’t— _ah_ — want to have to wait to fuck me—” Which she’s not objecting to in the least, just to clear that up for the record.

"That didn’t mean I wanted to do it in the museum, surrounded by stolen artifacts!"

At least he doesn’t know _where_ the provenance documents are, Joanna coming before she can come up with a clever retort.

"Not to mention that it’s just plain unwise to do it out in the open! Unless you’d like me to start taking you rough and hard across my desk at the Mexican Consulate next time?"

"I’ll be sure to put it on my list of things to do," she mutters, throwing him a cheeky look as she pulls her jeans back up, straightening herself out just as the phone rings. "Hold on, I gotta take this. It’s about that replacement for an assistant I was telling you about."

"Ah, good. More conquistadors to welcome to your proud capital, I see."

"I really _will_ hit you— Joanna Riggs speaking."

  


&

  


Hiring Nancy Drew, as convenient as it makes doling out tasks she doesn’t want to have to deal with (and that Sonny Joon was utterly useless at actually completing), complicates things for them considerably, the two of them starting to have to come up with clever ways to sneak him into the museum. And Nancy is just bright enough that, when Alejandro comes up with that _ridiculous_ story about how he can just return the papers himself for when he has to see Joanna _anyway_ , Joanna doesn’t start thinking that she might pick up on a thing or two.

But telling that to Alejandro was a mistake, especially when it was followed up by a _listen, maybe we ought to double-up on our mutual bashing of each other around Nancy and everyone else, just in case_.

"Police custody!" She practically screams into the phone once she’s finally back at her apartment and _out of a job, thank you very much._ “You landed me in jail on an anonymous tip that you then told Nancy about because I apparently stole the Pacal Carving myself to sell on the black market?! And because my financial habits aren’t smart?! You— you _cost me my job_ , Alejandro del Rio!”

"I did not expect them to actually fire you, but I can tell you that I reckon that Mexico, for one, is truly grateful that you’re no longer in that office at Beech Hill—"

"Don’t make me do it. Don’t make me come down there and punch your lights out myself. You know I have an almost ridiculous amount of arm strength from growing up with a brother. _Don’t_ joke about this.”

"I will assume that this means that I’m not coming over tonight, then…?"

She hesitates.

_Goddammit._

"No." Ugh. Cringe.com. _Goodbye, self-respect, wherever you are now, I hope you are in a better place._ “It's not like I have anything to do, seeing as I'm _out of a job_ , thanks to a certain numbnut... but you can _bet_ your sorry ass that I’m couching you tonight.”

  


&

  


Nancy Drew, of all people, the reason she had to lose her job in the first place— so claims Alejandro, at any rate, to try and deflect the blame off himself— turns out to be the person to actually get her back her job, which leaves her with enough work and overtime to put in that Alejandro actually comes by after hours to _help her_ get the exhibit ready.

It’s something she never expected from him, not in a million years.

But then, she also didn’t expect _Nancy_ to not only recover the Pacal, but get the _Monolith_ open, all while catching the bad guy in the act.

That weasel Sinclair always gave her the creeps, so it’s not like she had any reason to be particularly surprised about it.

What does surprise her, however, is that the same day that the Pacal, alongside all its forged provenance documents, is shipped back to Mexico, Alejandro shows up at Beech Hill with a full bouquet of roses for everyone to see, extending an invitation to her to accompany him on a dinner date.

Not a booty-call. An honest-to-goodness, actual _date_.

It surprises her even more when she says _yes_.

(Then again, far more than even the Pacal or the Monolith, he was always her favorite Mexican acquisition.)


End file.
